


Neighbors

by LavendersBlue11



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavendersBlue11/pseuds/LavendersBlue11
Summary: Somehow, John Wick has found himself on his last job, in the last place on earth he'd want to be: Central Texas.   He can't give his reasons why he's so desperate to leave the organization, but before he can, he's sent on an absolutely asinine, ridiculous assignment in order to earn his freedom.Alma Davis is back home in Lakeway, Texas, after years away, living in the oddly unique house her father built for them during his career as an architect. She's wrapping up loose ends and trying to figure out where she belongs.  With nothing tying her down to anywhere or anyone, she struggles to figure out if she should stay or go.
Relationships: John Wick/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	Neighbors

Sometime in between jobs, yes in between, as in more than one that night, he’d decided he’d had enough. He knew there were obligations, certain promises that might need to be renegotiated, but when he opened the door to his car and sat, loosening his tie as he checked the rear view mirror, he knew this was it. This wasn’t normal, and he didn't know why it was bothering him so much this particular evening, but it was and he was done. 

Hopefully forever. 

He turned the key, a small nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that he really needed to be careful with how he played the next few interactions he had. 

Eventually, he thought, everyone loses their taste for this. The money, the luxury, the glamour of murder for hire, it sours like all other things that are honestly too good to be true. He had never expected to live this long, even, he reasoned as he pulled off the highway and into his garage. 

Tossing his keys into the bowl near the door, he would normally clean his weapons and then himself, but instead he opened the fridge, took a giant swing of orange juice directly from the container before putting it back, and peeled his damp clothes off as he walked to his bedroom. Who cared! What mattered at this point? 

After showering, he got under the covers, deciding he was going to make two calls from the phone in the basement as soon as he woke up: The boss, and a realtor. And then he’d go from there. 

\--

Alma Davis did not have time for this. Normally a kind, patient woman, she had sat in so many waiting rooms the past month that she’d lost count. She’d been waiting for hours. 

Not to mention the sting of the constant questions from every lawyer and administrator and banker she’d had to talk to lately. She had prepared her answers long before she set foot in the office. 

Alma had been a nurse in Boston when she got the call from her father that he was sick. Very sick. He didn’t ask her to come home to Texas outrightly, but that’s what he was asking when he called. She packed her bags in a haze, sending everything that she deemed unnecessary into storage, limiting herself to what could fit in her suitcase. 

Her father hung on for a few months after she’d returned home, trying to keep his spirits up, which she knew was for her. Alma enjoyed her limited time with him, however sad and fleeting it was. It was so rare, having worked in the busiest trauma center in the city, that she was able to appreciate the mundanity of life. She was with him when he passed, and in the moment, she couldn’t describe her feelings as anything other than relief. He’d been in a lot of pain the last few weeks, and knowing exactly what his body was going through as a medical professional made most of it unbearable. 

She found herself spacing out in important meetings with lawyers. Her father had worked as an architect at a large firm in Austin his entire life, advancing to vice president over the course of his career. His pension and 401k were quite sizable, as was the value on his house. 

Alma had, quite literally, become a millionaire overnight, according to her father’s lawyer. He gave her an infantilizing talk about not spending all her money in one place, which filled her with rage. She kept a smile plastered on her face, trying to contain the emotional whirlwind she’d been experiencing for the past few weeks for just a little bit longer, until she could safely get into her car and cry before heading back to the house, where the insurance company was dropping by later to come pick up the last vestiges of her father’s illness. 

She signed everything the lawyer, Mr. Nguyen put in front of her. He assured her this would probably be the last time they’d need to meet to close out the estate, which was a relief. These meetings were terrible. A whole life, reduced to dollars and cents and deeds and bonds. Mr. Nguyen put everything into a banker’s box and slid it across his desk. 

“That should do it, Miss Daniels. Please let me know if you have any need for legal services in the future.” 

“Uh. Thank you. I will,” Alma scooped up the box and balanced it on her hip as she reached to shake his hand awkwardly. 

“And, it can’t be said enough, I’m very sorry for your loss.” 

I’m sure you are, she thought, at your billable rate, I’m sure you’re so sorry. 

“Okay. Well. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.” 

He moved to open the door for her. 

“Miss Davis,” he nodded. 

She nodded back and made her way back to her father’s Volvo that she’d been driving since being back in town, and she cried for what felt like the millionth time this month. She felt guilt at trying to do anything but work on the house or settle up everything, and lived in her uniform of leggings and her grubby Umass t-shirt. 

There were so many things she didn’t know what to do with though. Like his wallet, his glasses. You can’t just throw these things away, she thought. She had put both into her purse. She’d come up with a use for it all at some point..

She wished she could solve it all in the moment, just get it all done in one day, but she was learning that while the worst part of her day as a nurse was telling a doctor that they had to notify the family of one of her patients, that was just the beginning for what the family had to deal with. When her mother died, at least her dad was there to lead. He knew what to do, or at least pretended to. 

Tomorrow, she will get the house on the market. Tomorrow, she’d start looking for a place to move. She could see about getting her nursing license transferred, and maybe look into getting a job at one of the hospitals in Austin. Or Maybe San Antonio. She didn’t have to know now. 

Yeah, that could all happen tomorrow. But tonight, she was going to finish packing everything up and probably cry in the shower. 

You win some, you lose some. 

\-- 

John woke up the next morning and cooked an enormous breakfast for himself. He had reason to celebrate. Come hell or high water, tonight was his last job. For now. He sat down with a steaming plate of pancakes and bacon, and made a list on the back of an envelope. 

To Do:   
Call Winston  
Call Realtor (what’s her name?)  
Go to Safety Deposit box   
Figure out where to move

It was darkly funny how much time it would probably take to complete just four items. Because there would be subtasks. That was the irritating part. It was never so simple as to just make a phone call. Even the safety deposit box led to other places he’d squirreled coins or necessary items away that he’d need to handle before cutting himself away from all of it. 

Might as well start with the hardest task. He picked up the heavy receiver of the old-fashioned telephone down in the basement, picking up the phone and began to pace. 

“Hello Jonathan,” said Winston calmly, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Winston. I’m done.” 

There was a long pause. He heard an exasperated breath blow into the receiver. 

“Perhaps you would care to meet in person to discuss this matter?”

“No, I really wouldn’t, Winston. I’m not on any open jobs, no markers, nothing. Consider this my resignation.” 

“This is a very important decision, Jonathan, and I’m certain it’s not one you’re making rashly?” 

“It isn't.” 

“Is it a woman?” 

“No.” he said flatly. Ridiculous. 

“Well, Jonathan, I will say I will miss you and your dedication to our organization, but you must know who I have to take this to.” 

“Yeah.” 

“There’s a chance there may be a final task. Please wait for my call.” 

John figured this would happen. He hung up the phone wordlessly. Here come the subtasks he thought, nevertheless using his green marker to put a check next to “Call Winston.” 

He dug around the desk drawer for a while before he found the business card for Rochelle Algar, the woman who sold him the house in Jersey he was currently sitting in. He’d never done much to spruce up the place. It was nice, he’d hired a decorator after all, but it was really more of a place he ate, slept, and healed when he wasn’t working. 

He punched the number into the phone, and left a message. He put a checkmark on the list. 50% done and it wasn’t even 10 am. Now realizing he’d have to go to the bank, he changed out of his pajamas into jeans, grabbing his keys and pulling out of the driveway. 

Emptying the contents of his safety deposit into the briefcase into his satchel he’d brought with him, he exchanged a look with the teller, who gave him a curt nod before he made his exit. Moving on to the New York City library, he uncovered the ancient tome of Russian folktales, where he emptied out the marker, a few coins, and the rosary. He’d not need them, which was a lot to let go of, given the trouble both the items caused him over the years.

He pocketed them and put the book back. His phone buzzed and he accepted the call, holding it up to his ear, daring the caller to speak. 

Winston must have heard him breathing. 

“Jonathan, let’s make a deal.” 

\--


End file.
